


Secrecy of the Night

by royaltyjunk



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, anD THEN DEATH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15410991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royaltyjunk/pseuds/royaltyjunk
Summary: She looks exactly as the rumors say: a dark-haired girl nearing two sword-lengths whose body states that her age is something near ten. Yet, her eyes betray her. There’s a fountain of wisdom behind them that quickly becomes hidden as she notices the man approaching her.





	Secrecy of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Ideas: wOW A FATES FIC AMONGST THE like six thousand others  
> I don’t know, this idea just kind of sprung up out of nowhere. I was wondering where Nyx would be during Birthright and since I do Xander/Nyx, I wanted to try writing that

Xander pulls at his horse’s reins, and it whinnies before slowing to a stop. Another horse slows to a stop beside his.

“Are you sure you want to go on alone, Lord Xander?” Laslow questions, dismounting from Peri’s horse with ease.

“I’ll be fine, Laslow. I appreciate your concern, but this should be a simple task.”

“But Lord Xander! What if there’s someone waiting to stab you? Peri wants to do some killing too!” Peri complains.

“Peri,” Xander says warningly, his voice deep. Peri droops visibly, but clearly knows better than to object to her liege because she doesn’t say anything in response.

“We’re here for a reason, Lord Xander,” Laslow chimes in.

“I know that well,” Xander responds, “but this is a task I must do on my own. There is no predicting what could possibly happen.”

At that, Laslow lets out a sigh of resignation and runs his hand through his hair.

“Stay right here,” Xander says with an air of finality around him. “That’s an order.”

His retainers exchange a glance but follow his order, simply staring at their lord’s back as Xander turns and walks into the fort. He hears them murmuring but chooses to ignore them, instead focusing on his mission.

Rumors that a powerful mage from times ago had reappeared in this area had brought Xander here. A mage with the appearance of a young girl…had the “monster” reappeared?

His father had told him about her—the mage who is eternally young, who is called a monster by the people who know the havoc she had once wreaked on Nohr.

Xander shakes his head and continues forward through the dark and cold fort. There’s no sign of her anywhere so far, but it’s clear someone has been here recently. There’s no hiding the small footprints on the dirt-covered stone floor, and the distant sound of spells being cast.

The darkness grows heavier as he pushes aside a layer of vines hanging over a hole in the wall. The night sky hangs high over his head when he sees the monster for the first time.

She looks exactly as the rumors say: a dark-haired girl nearing two sword-lengths whose body states that her age is something near ten. Yet, her eyes betray her. There’s a fountain of wisdom behind them that quickly becomes hidden as she notices the man approaching her.

“Prince Xander,” she greets. “What does the crown prince of Nohr want with a monster such as myself?”

“Nyx,” he responds. “I’m here to ask for your cooperation with the Nohrian Army.”

She lets out a low chuckle. “So you’re here to take me into custody?”

“No. Quite the opposite, to tell the truth.”

She shows no sign of surprise, or she’s very good at hiding it. He doesn’t know which one it is.

“We would value you as an ally in this war. You are known to be one of Nohr’s most powerful mages, and to tell the truth, we’ve no idea what you will do. That is why we would like you to join us.”

“Binding me to an alliance so I cannot threaten you, hm?” Nyx raises an eyebrow before turning her eyes away. “What a dirty trick.”

“Far from it,” Xander replies with a shake of his head. “We simply believe you will be a valuable ally in this war. I know you may find that claim hard to believe, but I am a man of my word. I am not lying.”

Nyx doesn’t say anything for a long moment of silence, and Xander stretches out his hand to her.

“Nyx. Join us.”

She finally turns to look him in the eyes, her own flashing in the night sky, and then takes his hand. “Very well. Consider my strength… yours.”

~ / . / . / ~

“Prince Xander,” Nyx calls to him as she hurries to catch up him. He slows his pace and allows her to fall into step with him.

Since she joined the army, Nyx had been quite the help. Although Iago had objected rather heavily to putting her, someone with little experience leading, in charge of the training in the mages’ division, there was nothing Iago could do to truly prevent Xander from doing so. Besides, the only other mage they could have placed in charge was… well, Iago, and Xander would have risked an arm and a leg for that not to happen.

And besides, soldiers have not only said that her training methods and advice are very helpful, but that she motivated them unlike anyone else. And there seemed to be no consensus on what it was that she did to make them so motivated. Some said it was the air of experience around her, while others claimed it was the world of knowledge she seemed to hold in her palms.

“Nyx. Is something the matter?”

“Is there anything that troubles you?”

Xander frowns. “An odd and unprovoked question. Why do you ask it?”

Nyx raises her eyebrows. “It’s rude to answer one question with another. And I asked first. Is there anything that troubles you?” she presses again.

“No. Not at the moment…” Xander trails off, holding back the emotions buried deep in his heart. Nyx tutts.

“You dissemble, prince, but I know the truth.”

A flare of anger sparks in Xander’s chest, and he replies, “If memory serves… you are a soothsayer, are you not?”

“Yes. And?” She glances at him.

“My apologies, Nyx, but I believe the art to be a sham and a ruse.” He really is sorry. To tell someone you trust that that you don’t believe in their career or hobby is hard, to say the least. Yet, Nyx raises an eyebrow.

“Do you now…? Then it is fortunate that I am not relating a prophecy.”

“Oh?” There’s a pang of anxiety, a stirring worry that she will uncover his worries. “Say what you will, but I have no troubles. I must go hence to plan the next offensive. Unless you foresee disaster there too?”

“No,” Nyx says. “But promise me this. Come see me before the strain becomes too much to bear.”

“...If you insist.”

Xander’s sure he’ll never talk with her about this again.

~ / . / . / ~

“Nyx, a moment please,” Xander pipes up as he tightens the straps on his saddle before turning his attention to the shaman, standing off to the side of the stable.

“Is something the matter?”

“This something you believe I’m so worried in… what is it?”

Nyx raises her eyebrows, surprise evident in her eyes. “Hmhm. You truly want to know, do you? Didn’t you say that soothsaying was a sham and a ruse?”

“Answering a question with a question, are we?”

Nyx barks out a laugh. “Well done. But you surprised me. I didn’t think you’d show any interest about what I said.”

“Answer the question, please,” Xander says. “What did you think was troubling me?”

Nyx pauses for a moment and then inquires, “May I be frank?”

“You have my leave.”

Nyx closes her eyes, holding out her hands. A small spark of dark fire awakens from her palm. “It’s the war. The fighting troubles you.”

“The war?” Xander questions, his eyebrows dipping into a curve. Nyx senses his confusion and continues to speak.

“Yes. The truth is that you have no desire to kill your enemies. But in war, their lives can mean nothing. You must have no qualms with taking them. This puts you in a difficult position. You seem to be in pain.”

He doesn’t say anything, but one look at his eyes and Nyx can see the painful acceptance of the truth stirring within him.

“You are noble in spirit as well as blood. As the eldest prince, you always put your kingdom first. But that is also your weakness.”

“Do tell…” Xander murmurs. His voice makes it sound like he can’t even control what he’s saying anymore.

“You should not have to sublimate your own feelings for the greater good. You must give them voice and be true to yourself on occasion…” The dark fire extinguishes itself. She opens her eyes. “That is all.”

“So noted.” Xander pauses. “Tell me, on what grounds do you say all of this?”

Nyx purses her lips before saying, “Must I explain myself?” Her face is covered with anticipation and wariness.

“Soothsaying, then.” Xander nods. “I thought as much. So, you truly are aware of my feelings on the subject. Interesting.”

As he says that he reaches for his horse’s reins, opening the stall door.

“I must be going now. Thank you for your time. Good day, Nyx.”

He turns to leave, reins in hand and horse behind him, and Nyx murmurs, “That is regrettable. For myself, and for you as well.”

Indeed it is regrettable, he finds himself agreeing, when he goes to assist his father in Cyrkensia and finds himself engaged in battle with Corrin. That night, as they make camp by the ruins of the Opera House, Nyx’s words come back to haunt him.

He wonders why she didn’t want to tell him—why she keeps that air of secrecy around herself.

~ / . / . / ~

“Prince Xander, we must talk,” Nyx says as soon as they turn the corner away from the throne room together. The king had seemed to show no qualms about Nyx being Xander’s companion, possibly considering that he had not been focusing the slightest bit during their report, but Xander still chooses to take that as a positive sign. Perhaps her presence in the castle will not be regarded with such wariness anymore.

“If this is more soothsaying…” Xander starts warningly, but Nyx cuts him off.

“No. You asked me before what grounds I had to say those things. You assumed I knew what I did through soothsaying, but that is not the truth.”

Xander raises an eyebrow. “Then what is it?”

“...In you, I saw something that felt familiar.” Nyx’s voice is low and surprisingly vulnerable. Xander can’t help but blink.

“How so?”

Nyx bites her lip, slowing her pace. Xander leads her into his study before offering her the chair nearby. He in turn pulls up another chair and sits.

“The prince of Nohr must surely know why I am called a monster,” Nyx starts.

“I do.”

“I am forever young in form, and not through any fault in my bloodline. Why do you think that is?”

“I… I couldn’t say.”

“Even at a young age, I was skilled at the dark arts. I cast eldritch spells with ease. But the power proved too much for a child. One spell, cast half in jest, cost many people their lives. The toll it took on me caused my body to be frozen in time.”

Xander listens on in silence, his eyes strikingly dark.

“There were times when I wanted to die rather than deal with what happened. But I live on, hoping that someday I might find a way to atone for my crimes. Despite this, I’ve found that my talents lie mostly in dealing more death. It makes one wonder what the point of it all is. If all I do is kill, am I really winning my salvation? Or something else?”

“...You and I may be more alike than I thought.” Xander breaks into a small smile. “I’d like to discuss this further, if you have the time.”

“I’ll listen as long as you wish.” Nyx gives him a smirk in return. “Even if I don’t look it, I’m old enough that I might have some useful advice for you.”

That night they talk of soothsaying and of fortune-telling and of the shell of secrecy Nyx used to hide herself in, and it's almost hard to believe that she isn't hiding herself away.

~ / . / . / ~

The door opens. Xander doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is, simply holding out his hand. A pile of parchment is unloaded into his hand—a stack of reports.

The chair in front of him is pulled out, and Nyx sits down.

“You ought to take a break,” she suggests.

He doesn’t say anything, simply lets his frown grow deeper as he skims over the papers she gave him.

“Xander,” she prompts. He mumbles something under his breath and then sets down the papers before glancing over at her.

“The Hoshidan Army,” he says suddenly. “Who will they be facing next?”

Nyx raises an eyebrow, and he can’t say he blames her. He’d never asked her for any kind of soothsaying or predictions of the coming battles, but the situation is becoming dire. From the recent reports, all of Hoshido’s strongest warriors have allied around Corrin and his army. A few weeks ago, they seized control of Cheve, pushed their way through Nohr’s border guard, and then disappeared, only to reappear a few days ago in Macarath.

“Flora helped them escape,” Iago had hissed at a war meeting, and the king had only laughed maliciously.

“If they are so willing to trust the enemy, they will meet their doom soon.”

Xander is still staring at her, and after a moment she opens her hands. A spark of dark magic explodes in her hands before swirling about wildly. Nyx closes her eyes, and Xander looks on in intrigue.

“...The Ice Tribe,” Nyx finally answers, a frown forming between her eyebrows. The dark magic swirling in her palms fashions itself into the shape of a snowflake. “A battle will start soon. And then afterwards…” Nyx’s eyes fly open. “They will meet Prince Leo in battle.”

“Leo?” Xander questions anxiously, his hands gripping the side of the table as he stands suddenly.

“The branch of fate has gone on too far. It cannot be avoided,” Nyx responds immediately, knowing that Xander will do everything in his power to stop a battle if it can be stopped. “However… Leo’s life will not be lost in this battle. I am sure of it.”

Xander bites his lip, and she reaches over to rest a hand on his arm.

“I will speak with Leo about it,” Nyx reassures. “I will see to it that he understands the details of his upcoming battle, and how to prevail in it.”

He lets out a breath before nodding. “Thank you, Nyx. Is that all for today?”

“One last thing, Prince Xander,” Nyx replies, “Prince Corrin… in the future, he will grow powerful, and succeed in a trial that you yourself have completed. Do not grow complacent.”

The words almost make Xander shudder, but he holds back said shudder and offers Nyx a small smile. “Thank you, Nyx. If you will excuse me.”

He leaves the room, his mind reeling with worry and anxiety. To know that the army will be approaching their castle… oh gods, help him. At the very least, he has Nyx with him. Her visions and foresights—

He skids to a sudden stop in that moment of realization.

He had hated soothsaying once. He had called it a sham once.

Xander glances out of a nearby window. The stars are bright in the sky, distant but there. He knows that the only reason his mind has been changed is because of her.

Are these feelings… what he thinks they are?

~ / . / . / ~

Nyx’s study is perpetuated with silence, only marked by the scribbling of quills against parchment and the flipping and sorting of papers. There’s a sigh and then the sound of a seat pushing back with a loud squeak. Xander glances up, looking over his shoulder at her.

“Is something the matter?”

“Just soreness. I’m going to take a walk in the garden.”

“Let me come with you,” Xander says, standing up. She wants to object, but after two assassins attempted to sneak into the castle last night, she knows he won’t let her go outside alone late at night.

“Very well.” She waits for him to stand up and approach her before she leaves the room. He falls into step beside her as they walk, and they murmur about military strategies and premonitions until they’re under the night sky and in the shadows of the garden.

There, they fall silent, with nothing but the fear of intimacy keeping Xander’s lips shut. Certainly, he had been alone with Nyx before, but after he had discovered his feelings, he had refused to do anything about them, despite the fact that they both knew what his true feelings were. Sometimes he will look up only to find Nyx’s eyes fixed on him, or vice versa. It really is hard to read her, he discovers, after he catches her staring at him one day with an indescribable emotion in her eyes.

It feels as if she is protecting a secret behind that wise front of hers, a mystery behind those stares of hers.

“Nyx,” he’s speaking before he can stop himself, “you’re not hiding anything from me are you?”

She stares at him—there’s that look again—before smiling grimly. “Do you truly believe me to be such a person, Prince Xander? After everything I’ve told you?”

She had bared her soul to him when she had told him about her experiences and feelings months ago, of how she could sense something like herself in him and of how she felt the urge to take her life from herself sometimes.

The back of her palm brushes against his before he can say anything in response. They share a gaze for a split second, and then their fingers entwine almost on instinct, weaving together until it’s indistinguishable where one hand starts and the other hand ends.

Her hand feels minuscule compared to his, and it makes him squeeze her hand tight, as if she will disappear if he doesn't hold on tight enough. She squeezes back after a hesitant moment.

“...My last secret,” Nyx murmurs before letting go of him. Xander isn't even sure what to say.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he finds her hand again and holds it, protecting it like she had protected her secret.

~ / . / . / ~

Nyx raises her head as she hears the distant clopping of horse hooves slowing to a stop. Outside of the window in her study, she sees Prince Xander atop horseback, followed by his retainers Peri and Laslow, both seated on Peri’s mount, as well as two other castle guards.

They’ve stopped in front of the stable, sharing a few parting words. As Nyx looks on, Laslow walks away as everyone else enters the stable. Soon, Peri and the castle guards leave as well. When it becomes clear that Xander will not be leaving anytime soon, Nyx shuts her book and leaves her study, making for the stable.

Nyx runs into him when she turns the corner that will lead her to the stables. They both start, but Xander recovers quickly.

“What are you doing here?” he inquires.

“Going to meet you,” she responds.

He simply hums, but the stress could not be clearer on his face. Hesitantly, Nyx reaches upwards and smooths her thumb along his creased brow.

“...Would you like to go on a walk?” she asks. He blinks, as if the question had come from out of nowhere because it had, but nods. She leads the way, weaving in and out of routes until they’re hidden deep in the garden, adorned with an assortment of flowers.

Nyx’s fingers touch the back of his hand gently, asking a question. Wordlessly, he answers by taking her hand.

It's become a habit, almost, to interlock hands whenever they can. Nyx finds that even mundane tasks such as talking with him become something intimate whenever their fingers lock together under the gaze of only the shadows and their eyes.

It's a game of risk they’re playing. To show something beyond the relation of the crown prince’s advisor is scandalous to say the least; especially when they both know that there's something beyond advisor and prince, even beyond friend and friend or the confidant and the confided, that they're not willing to admit.

Yet this time it's different. When he takes her hand and holds it tight like he always does, she feels a shiver crawl up her spine. When he glances at her with tender eyes when he thinks she doesn't notice, something warm yet anxious blossoms in her heart. When he doesn't let go of her hand even when he should, her soul trembles with an emotion so intense that Nyx doesn't even dare to name it even if they both know what it is.

“Love,” Xander’s deep voice breaks the silence of the nighttime.

Neither of them say anything, but Nyx knows he's waiting for her, and for once it feels like he’s the soothsayer, not her.

Slowly she leans into him, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. She doesn't even have to read into his psyche to know that he's a mess on the inside, a screaming mess of a man who's being flirted with by the woman he loves and doesn't know what to do.

And then he lifts an arm, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. Her mind practically goes blank.

It's almost comforting, how little they have to say. Xander is not a man of many words, and Nyx is not a woman of nice words. They know the other’s strong suit is everything but expressing themselves, and they have no qualms with that.

“This way,” he murmurs, and releases her from the hug before pulling her along. She hurries after him, and Xander takes a series of turns through the garden until they reach the center, coveted by a large gazebo. He sits on the bench in the shadows and gestures for her to join him. She does, and slowly leans against him.

“What do we do now?” she asks, even though there’s no need to even ask that question.

He runs a hand through his hair, smiling as he shrugs. She can't help but smile back at the sense of carefreeness radiating from him.

For once, they can act like they have nothing to lose; that he is nothing but a young man who believes in her, and that she is nothing more than a young woman who cares for him.

As Nyx touches a hand to his cheek and he buries his face between the crook of her neck and her shoulder, she lifts her eyes and sees the moonless night sky.

~ / . / . / ~

“Xander—”

“Don't argue!” he hisses, pulling Nyx along. “The Hoshidan Army’s already in the castle! You need to hide!”

“I'm not going to leave you alone on the battlefield,” she states firmly as they race down the hallways of Castle Krakenburg.

“No. This is my battle to fight, Nyx. If Corrin were to know about us, he would surely feel tremendous guilt over our fight. We can have none of that on the battlefield, where we settle matters with sword versus sword, not emotion versus will.”

Nyx lets out an exasperated sigh and a cluck of the tongue that Xander has gotten too used to over these past few months. Xander simply squeezes her hand tighter.

Nyx opens her mouth to ask where they’re running towards, but the hallways become familiar and easy to recognize, and she doesn’t bother to ask because soon enough the answer is before them.

Xander yanks open the door to his room, and the two of them stumble inside. He slams the door shut behind them and begins to move objects about his room—a couch beside his door, his dresser beside the other.

“When I leave,” he speaks as he moves about his room, “barricade the doors with my bookshelves and drawers. Look through them and burn anything that might make Corrin think I was romantically involved with anyone. If he finds out, he’ll feel more guilty than I could ever imagine.”

“Xander…”

Xander turns to look at her over his shoulder. She stares back, her heart pounding with something almost unidentifiable. He approaches her slowly, reaching out to touch a hand to her cheek when he’s close enough.

“Xander,” she repeats, almost breathlessly.

“Nyx…” he trails off, simply pressing his forehead against hers. His lips draw closer, but pauses for a moment. “May I?”

“Of course,” she whispers, and that’s all he needs to hear before he kisses her gently. It’s strange to feel human affection after such a long time, but it feels natural, like they’ve already done this thousands of times in their minds; if Nyx is telling the truth, she has.

“My apologies,” he murmurs when he pulls away.

“I’ve always told you to accept your feelings,” she murmurs back, her voice is weak with quivering emotion. All he does is run his thumb along the mark on her forehead before softly kissing her again.

“Nyx?”

“What is it?”

“Answer me truthfully. Will I survive this battle?”

At this, Nyx goes silent. Xander opens his mouth to press her, but she kisses him with the fervor of someone distastefully lustful, fingers tugging at his golden curls as she pulls him deeper and deeper into her spell.

“Nyx—”

“The path of fate always differs,” Nyx replies breathlessly, “but you will never live.”

Xander closes his eyes and lets Nyx’s fingers ghost over his face. “I knew it,” he murmurs without an ounce of surprise in his voice, as if to prove his words.

She rests her small hand against his neck, and they stay like that in silence, Xander with eyes closed and Nyx, a gentle hand against his neck and her head leaned on his chest. She listens intently to his heartbeat, for she knows from the visions of fate that this will be her last time hearing it.

“...What of you?” he whispers.

That, she doesn't know how to answer. She's seen so many different fates, so many unpleasant ones and so many joyful ones that she really doesn't know.

“I don't know,” she answers truthfully, and Xander simply presses a fleetingly understanding kiss against her lips.

“I must go,” he whispers, and Nyx doesn't know what to do except swallow the welling affections in her heart and press her lips to his fingers like he had once done to her.

When Xander leaves the room, she barricades it like he instructed, and destroys anything physical that Xander might have had to show his affection towards Nyx—surprisingly, she finds the veil of her old dark mage outfit and an earring she had once lost; Nyx can't help but laugh when she realizes that yes, Xander had found it, but no, he had not returned it.

The one thing she cannot bring herself to destroy is a obsidian circlet, not unlike his. It's not twisted and shaped like his though, it's strikingly familiar—it's exactly like her own circlet.

Obsidian is the power of the gods, given only to those who are destined to be royals. Every child of Nohr knows this.

Was Xander…?

She doesn't even bother finishing the thought. She is not stupid; of course he had been planning to ask her to become queen with him.

But they had both known he was never going to be king and she would never be queen—so why even make the crown?

She simply laughs bitterly when she realizes that, long ago when she had first met Xander, she had had a vision of herself wearing this very circlet, and that long ago, Xander had told her that he believed soothsaying to be a sham.

~ / . / . / ~

The crowd of mourners is large, but she expected that. What Nohrian in the right mind wouldn’t attend the funeral of three of their beloved royals?

She stands cloaked and crammed between crowds of people. All she can see are the extravagant caskets being pulled along the stone streets of Nohr. The one at the end of the line is black and atop lies an axe—Bolverk, for it is Garon’s casket.

The one at the front of the procession is purely white, with roses and bluebells and lillies scattered over the casket top—Princess Elise’s casket.

The middle one is a deep mahogany rimmed with gold. It’s scattered with red rose petals and atop the casket, much like the last one, is a sheathed sword. Even through the black sheath she can see Siegfried glowing with extravagant light, as if awaiting its next wielder.

The procession clops on in gloomy fashion. Nyx slips out of the crowd, pushing and muttering, “Excuse me” as she shoves her way out of the crowd. The people thin, and she begins to run, holding her hood over her head. She knows exactly where the caskets will go. She’s seen it too many times in her visions.

Nyx slips into the crowd of people closely following the procession. She casts several glances around as she shuffles along with them. Their heads are bowed. Some shake with sobs and some tremble with anger. Others fold their hands together, whispering prayers to the First Dragons.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been standing there, but it’s long enough that the mourners begin to thin, and Nyx can finally step forward and offer what she’s come to offer the departed souls.

Ignoring the staring eyes and not-so-soft whispers, she approaches the casket of deep mahogany. She kneels beside it, reaching out a hand to touch Siegfried’s sheath. Taking a deep breath, she pulls out the obsidian circlet that she had been unable to destroy and lays it on the casket. Her fingers linger on the twisted black thorns of the circlet.

“...I’m sorry, Xander,” she murmurs softly before standing and walking away.

“It’s her,” the onlooker whispers. “The monster. What is she doing here?”

“Come to send off our royalty, huh?” Another one sneers, and then gasps as they point out the circlet, resting on Xander’s casket. Nyx continues forward, past the people who whisper and stare and gasp.

A set of approaching footsteps causes her to lift her head up. Prince Leo pauses in front of her.

“Nyx,” Leo greets. She simply offers him a nod before brushing past him. He watches for a moment before hurrying after her and inquiring, “Might I ask you something?”

She pauses for a moment and then slows, allowing Leo to fall into step with her. He stumbles a bit in the night sky, and she looks at him.

“Are you alright?” she asks. He simply nods.

“I know that Xander loved the night sky, but did we really have to hold the funeral when it’s this dark?” he grumbles. Nyx simply raises an eyebrow.

“I suppose so,” she replies, keeping her eyes forward.

“Nyx,” Leo starts, “What do you think of staying in service of the Nohrian Army?”

Nyx doesn’t say anything for a moment, but a feeling of guilt presses her chest. Prince Leo must have noticed her change in attitude after joining the army. Still...

“The only person who knew me was Prince Xander, who is dead and buried in the ground now,” Nyx responds suddenly, but with honesty. Leo stares at her, but she averts her eyes and hurries away.

To think she would once again withdraw into her shell of secrecy—she can’t help but grimace behind her veil. People continue to stare at her as she walks away from the royal graveyard grounds.

Perhaps when the curse placed upon her shoulders is finally lifted, she will be able to meet the only man who truly knew her.


End file.
